


no shirt, no blouse

by kendrasaunders



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Clothing Kink, F/F, Stockings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:03:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendrasaunders/pseuds/kendrasaunders
Summary: zari wants to know why amaya likes stockings so much. amaya wants to show her. just gals bein' pals, bonding about clothes, eating each other out, you know! girl stuff.





	no shirt, no blouse

“You know we left 1953 like, two hours ago,” Zari says. “You can take that off.”

Zari finds the kitchen table is one of the best places to mind her own business- Though it’s not unwelcome to have Amaya come gliding in. Probably for a glass of water, or maybe something fancy (by Amaya standards), like Iced Tea.

Amaya gives Zari a quick glance, smoothing the front of her skirt. Her hair’s been pinned up and out of her face, but her swing dress is still on, a buttercup yellow gingham print. It’s so impractical, antithetically so, and Zari would’ve figured Amaya to be all practicality, no fuss. It’s a little odd to watch her still walk around in a big, poofy skirt, gliding across the tile floor with stockinged feet.

Odd, but not- Unwanted. The dress does, admittedly, look wildly uncomfortable. But, counter point, it looks really, really good. There’s something about Amaya in a fluffy skirt that makes Zari kind of itch for something, kind of makes her super aware of the feeling of her tongue in her mouth, but she tries not to think about that too much.

“Oh,” Amaya says, and she gives Zari this look that’s kind of sheepish and kind of insecure, two emotions that clash on her pretty face. “I didn’t- I was just reading in my room, and-“

Zari pokes a fork into her waffles, staring into the syrup for a moment, like she’s going to find her tact there. She looks back up, watching Amaya fuss. “So you just- Were hanging out in that?”

“Well,” Amaya says, pulling her skirts out, showing off their poofiness. Zari finds the gesture kind of charming, making the dress look romantic and dreamy. “It’s a sundress. It’s nice.”

“I mean, you look good-“ Zari pokes her fork into her waffle. “You look. Nice. It’s a nice dress.”

Amaya takes the comment in stride, and Zari is always sort of amazed at how easily Amaya brushes off the awkwardness, how she always manages to turn this into something genuine. She gives her skirt a swish for good measure. “It’s comfortable.”

“That’s comfortable?” Zari asks. “You’re like, all cinched in it. And are you like, still wearing the garter belt under there?”

“Of course,” Amaya says. “How else would my stockings stay up?”

Zari has decided to reconsider her original take on stockings. “Oh.”

“This is-“ She gestures. “I mean, I like jeans and all but- This makes sense to me.”

“Sure,” Zari says. “And this-“ She sticks out her leg, showing off the pajama pants she’d had Gideon fabricate. “Makes sense to me.”

“Right,” Amaya says, and finally reaches into the fridge.

“So you miss it,” Zari says, watching Amaya’s waist, the graceful bend of her back. “Like, all the posturing and shit.”

“It’s not posturing,” Amaya says, holding her bottle of water and closing the fridge. “It’s- Discipline. And manners.”

“Wow,” Zari says. “You’re- You’re like really old.” 

Amaya raises her eyebrows. “And?”

“Like, you just-“ Zari gestures at her. “You don’t look it, so-“

“Have you been trying to compliment me?” Amaya says. “Just to- Clarify.”

Amaya can be terribly literal. Zari likes to talk around things. Usually they can understand each other, because Zari isn’t trying to- Could this be called flirting? It felt a lot more like slowly, painfully getting her teeth pulled, trying to figure Amaya out and also not look at her boobs. 

“Yeah,” Zari says. “I’m uh- If I looked as pretty as you do, I guess maybe I’d be comfortable too.”

Amaya beams. “Well, you always look good,” she says. “You just don’t know how to put on stockings.” 

“Oh,” Zari says. And immediately, her mouth doing the work before her brain does, she adds, “Do you want to show me?”

And she doesn’t even have time to regret asking before Amaya says, “Sure! Of course.”

So the regret, and the very intimate knowledge that Amaya has just agreed to help her try on underwear, grinning like this is just another tenant of friendship, comes about two immediate seconds after her answer has been given.

“Great,” Zari says, rising from the table. “Yay.”

Amaya puts her hand on the small of Zari’s back, and it’s there all the way to the fabricator.

  
  


“You know what fashion I like?” Zari says, watching the fabricator make her a garter belt, kind of having a hard time seeing it as just a normal piece of underwear and not as some… kink thing. Because this is just some- Friendly time, and not- Kink time. Probably. “Those sweatpants from the early 2000s. All velvet, you could wear them anywhere, and people were just cool with it. That’s the ideal.”

“That would make you look lazy,” Amaya says. “I’d never wear that.”

“Yeah, but you’re fine wearing the sex belt,” Zari says.

Amaya pulls it from the fabricator. “The what?”

“I said belt,” Zari says, reminding herself to never have another thought again, in her life. “You’re fine wearing like, an underwear belt, but sweatpants are too far?”

“This-“ Amaya holds the garter belt in front of Zari, demanding she pay it respect. “Holds up your stockings and smooths your stomach. Sweatpants made of velvet are far less useful.”

“But far more comfortable,” Zari says.

“This is comfortable!” Amaya protests. “Take off your pants.”

“You know, I was thinking I could go, like, change in the bathroom, or maybe you could turn around, or-“ She cuts herself off. Is there really any harm, letting Amaya see her in her underwear? Maybe she’d like what she saw. Maybe she’d touch Zari’s butt. That’s a pretty promising idea, and sighing, Zari undoes the fly on her jeans.

“See?” Amaya says. “You have nice legs.”

“I uh, never said-“ She rolls her feet against the floor, the fabric of her socks rubbing against the soles of her feet. “I don’t really like, shave my legs, so-“

“So?” Amaya says. “I don’t really understand why everyone is so obsessed with shaving, anyway-“

“You just missed it culturally, by like a year,” Zari says. “I mean, I barely ever got a razor in 2042, but-“

“You have nice legs,” Amaya repeats, more firmly this time. “Can I put this around your waist?”

Zari considers, for a moment, that she is standing here without pants, and that Amaya wants to wrap her arms around her. And maybe that’s the thought that shorts her brain out, but Zari says, “Wait. Can you show me, first?”

Amaya tilts her head. “Hm?”

“Like, show me how yours looks,” Zari says. “I mean, if you want to teach me, I should see it, right?”

Amaya presses her tongue against the inside of her cheek, like she finds Zari clever. “Yes,” she says. “You’re right. Can you unzip my dress?”

“Uh-” Zari offers, as Amaya turns away, offering Zari her back. “Yeah. Sure.”

The zipper is mercifully quick- Gideon makes good clothing, at the very least.

  
  


Amaya slips her arms out of the straps of her dress, letting it fall into a heap, and maybe she should’ve told Zari she hadn’t been wearing a bra, but maybe that would’ve ruined the surprise and elation of this moment, and Zari couldn’t fault her for that.

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re not wearing a bra, I guess I could at least-” She pulls her tank  top over her head so quickly her hair goes static, and her bra and underwear are fifteen different kinds of mismatched but at least now it feels sort of. Even.

“You didn’t have to-” Amays puts one arm over her chest as she turns back around, and 

Zari tries to ignore that little pang of disappointment. “I mean, I’m sorry, we’re teammates I know but- I just didn’t really need a bra so-”

“Should I put my shirt back on?” Zari asks.

“Do you want to?” Amaya asks.

“Can I be super honest?” Zari says.

“Please,” Amaya replies.

“Lower your arm,” Zari says. “Let’s- Let’s not be shy, right? We’re teammates. Like you said. Girl bonding. This is just. Girl bonding.”

“I’m... “ Amaya lowers her arm, and when she looks at Zari’s chest the only thing Zari feels is warm all over. “I’m helping.”

“Yeah!” Zari says, clasping Amaya on the shoulder. “See, now I can see how your garter belt looks, and-”

“And?” Amaya offers.

To which Zari says, under her breath, “Fuck.”

  
  


“Hm?” Amaya says.

“I uh-” Zari says, taking in the nip at Amaya’s waist, the expanse of skin between her underwear and her thighs where her stockings start. “I’m rethinking garter belts.”

“Really?” Amaya says, grinning. It’s like she can’t tell, like she has no idea she’s the sexiest person Zari’s ever seen, like she can’t tell Zari’s hands are aching at her sides, longing to wrap around Amaya’s waist. 

“Sure,” Zari says. “You look… so good, Amaya.”

And maybe she can tell that Zari’s getting off on this, just a little, because she has the raw audacity to turn around, her ass covered in purple-black satin underwear. “How’s this?”

“Oh,” Zari says. “Are we?”

“Are we?” Amaya repeats.

“I’d love to,” Zari blurts out, tugging on the waistband of her own underwear. “I mean, uh-”

“You’re not-” Amaya is still holding the garter belt in one hand, gesturing with it. “You’re not fully- Dressed.”

“No but-” Zari gives a half grin. “I thought that was the point?”

Amaya shakes her head. Some of her hair has fallen out of its pinnings and into her face, only highlighting how breathless she makes Zari feel, how beautiful she is. “I want to put this on you,” Amaya says. “So I can show you.”

“Ah,” Zari says, lifting her arms above her head. “Is that how you feel?”

She finds something catlike in Amaya’s expression, coy and teasing. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Zari says, linking her index fingers, stretching further. “Then suit me up.” 

Amaya leans forward, resting her chin on Zari’s shoulder. The fabric is snug around Zari’s hips, Amaya reaching around her waist to clasp it behind Zari’s back. “What?” Amaya says. “You don’t want to touch me?”

She’s been thinking about it too intently, or she’s been caught too off-guard, because at Amaya’s offer, Zari’s hands just twitch at her sides- She manages to say, “Uh?” But it’s kind of distracting, when Amaya is running her hands over Zari’s sides, stroking her, grinning as she puts her hands on Zari’s ass. Zari finds herself moving into the touch, just slightly arching her back, offering Amaya more to grab.

“It fits well,” Amaya says, too close to Zari’s neck, before she pulls away, leaving Zari kind of cold and entirely stunned. “Take off your socks.”

“Right,” Zari says, making a small, understanding motion with her hands. “Because I can’t put on stockings with- Right.” 

She puts her hand on Amaya’s shoulder to steady herself, still thinking about Amaya just touching her so easily, so casually, not having all of this mounting anxiety like Zari does- She still hasn’t touched Amaya’s boobs yet, and they’re right there, and Amaya had such a firm grip and Zari had been getting hot and bothered just from the promise of Amaya’s toying with her.

If this is turning into a kink thing, Zari’s there. She’s so there.

  
  


She balls up her socks before tossing them across the room, staring at Amaya and trying to show some kind of intent. “You gonna uh- Help me with the stockings?”

“Of course,” Amaya says. “That’s what we’re doing, right?”

“Yeah,” Zari says, picking up the stockings that Gideon has freshly fabricated. “That’s what this is.”

“Here,” Amaya says, taking Zari by the arm. “Lean against the wall and lift your leg for me.”

Amaya drops to her knees, and it’s the only thing Zari wants to look at anymore, Amaya wide-eyed and eager and knowing, ready and on her knees. 

“Sure,” Zari says, still trying to read whatever’s going on. She watches Amaya roll the stockings down to the the seam of the foot, holding it open for Zari to step into. 

“There,” she says, like Zari isn’t awkwardly pointing her foot, jamming it into some nylon. She unrolls the stocking up Zari’s ankle, her calf, and Zari’s eyes flutter and she has to stare at the ceiling as Amaya’s fingers snap the band of the stocking against her thigh. “See how pretty that is?”

Zari tries to come up with words, and only whimpers in response.

Amaya adjusts the band again, then moves her attention to the entire leg, stroking her hands the stocking and making Zari shudder. “We don’t want them to be too loose in the ankle,” she says, like that’s why her fingers are trailing softly behind Zari’s knee, climbing up the back of her leg. “All good.”

“Great,” Zari says.

“And then,” Amaya says, taking the first elastic suspender. She keeps one hand on Zari’s inner thigh, gently stroking, while she closes the clasp against the stocking and adjusts the length of the suspender. “Just like that.”

“Amaya,” Zari says, trembling above her.

“Hold on,” Amaya says. “You have four of these.”

“Amaya,” Zari repeats, more insistent. “Please-”

Amaya closes the third clasp, this one in the back, and runs her hand up Zari’s backside, her fingers just toying with the wet spot growing in Zari’s underwear. “I’m not finished.”

“I need-” 

Amaya shushes her, securing the last clasp. “Okay. Other leg.” 

“I need it,” Zari demands, nudging Amaya with her knee. “I need it right now, please-”

Amaya meets Zari’s eyes. She leans forward, and kisses Zari’s mound, through her underwear. 

Zari groans in need.

“Other leg,” Amaya says, softly.

“Yeah, right,” Zari says, lifting her foot. “Okay.”

She’s anticipating Amaya’s touch this time, and so when Amaya touches her ankle, when her knuckles brush the skin of Zari’s leg as she carefully puts the stocking on her, Zari can enjoy it, she can savor the touch of it, watch Amaya’s hands on her leg and sigh out loud.

“Here-” Zari says, reaching for one of the suspenders. “Let me-”

“I want to do it,” Amaya says, swatting Zari’s hand away. “Hold still. You’re shaking.”

“Can you blame me?” Zari says.

Amaya just laughs in response, that kind, happy sound Zari loves so much, the one she always wants to hear. She’s touchier when she puts on these clasps, letting her nails leave little half moons when she lingers on Zari’s thigh for too long, toying with Zari through her underwear and then moving her hand away like it was never there.

  
  


By the time she secures the fourth and final clasp, Zari could almost cry.

“How do you feel?” Amaya asks.

“Kind of pinched, honestly,” Zari manages. 

“Aw, poor thing,” Amaya says. “Anything else?”

Zari audibly swallows the anxiety in her throat. “Please eat me out,” she whines, balling her hands into fists. “Please, I’ll literally do anything, just-”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Amaya says. “Don’t worry.”

“And wait,” Zari says. “You can’t even get my underwear off because of the-”

Amaya simply pulls the fabric off Zari’s underwear to the side, and takes no time in putting her mouth over Zari, moving her tongue slowly against her slit.

“Oh,” Zari manages. “Oh,  _ fuck- _ ”

Just as her hands had promised earlier, Amaya takes a grip on Zari’s ass with one hand, keeping Zari tightly sealed between her fingers digging into Zari’s butt and her mouth moving to her clit. 

Zari’s toes curl and uncurl, the floor feeling kind of slippery and unsupportive in her stockings. There’s something restrictive about the whole thing, that Amaya has put her in something very tight that digs into her skin, that Amaya is the one who’s orchestrated this entire situation. She feels like a trap’s been sprung, and now she’s completely helpless against Amaya’s ministrations.

That thought, paired with Amaya’s tongue broadly stroking against Zari’s clit, make her leak against Amaya’s chin in pleasure, make her clit throb even as Amaya licks with the tip of her tongue right under the hood, right where Zari is most sensitive.

“Did you-” Zari takes hold in Amaya’s hair, her hand rooted against Amaya’s scalp. “Did you set me up?”

Amaya tilts her head back, lips wet. “What?”

“Your dress,” Zari says. “And the stockings, and-”

“I really did want to prove a point about stockings,” Amaya says. “And then I just got- Into it.”

“So you’re into me?” Zari asks.

“I’m… going down on you,” Amaya says.

“I just wanted to check,” Zari says. “Because I’m like- I think about you a lot, and-”

Amaya snaps one of the suspenders against Zari’s thigh, and Zari cries out.

“Uh, what the shit?” Zari says.

“You were worrying,” Amaya says.

“Oh,” Zari replies.

“And also,” Amaya says. “I thought you might find it sexy.”

“I’m not really a pain-pleasure person,” Zari says. “Are you?”

“Maybe,” Amaya says.

Zari lets out a small noise of desire. “Noted.”

“Sorry,” Amaya says, kissing Zari’s thigh.

“No, I mean- You were right,” Zari says. “I was worried.”

“Better now?” Amaya asks.

“I still need your mouth really badly,” Zari says.

“Good,” Amaya replies, and she takes like, no time at all sucking Zari’s clit back into her mouth.

And Zari, if she could remember to speak, would say something about her disbelief that Amaya seduced  _ her,  _ that Amaya is this delightful, perverted, amazing-mouthed goddess, and  _ she  _ seduced  _ Zari,  _ and her tongue feels so good that it makes it so hard to think, so hard to  _ breathe-  _

“Amaya,” Zari whimpers. “I- I-”

Amaya doesn’t just lick at Zari, she doesn’t just gently put her tongue in Zari’s pussy, just so Zari can feel it in her, at her entrance, teasing her before returning to kiss her clit. Amaya can make love with her mouth, a sort of old-fashioned term for this classical, beautiful person. Zari feels fucked from the treatment of it, from the dizzying pleasure Amaya knows how to pull out of her with every beautiful, slick inch of her tongue.

“Fuck me,” Zari moans, arching her back. “Like- Use your tongue and just,  _ fuck-” _

Amaya is, Zari is noticing, both very teasing and very certain of specific things- She uses her finger instead of her tongue, and Zari doesn’t even mind. The feeling of one of Amaya’s slender finger inside her is achingly good. She can’t even be embarrassed by how wet she is- Amaya’s the one who did this to her, Amaya is the one stroking her with her finger in her pussy and her tongue on Zari’s clit, swollen and desperate as Amaya plays with her.

“You can-” Zari quivers under Amaya’s touch, moans as Amaya’s grip on her ass tightens, hope her nails leave marks. “You can fuck me harder, if you want.”

But Amaya doesn’t- She keeps the pace she wants. It’s all Zari can do to ride her hand, pleading in the back of her mind for Amaya to just add another finger- The tension between her legs is insurmountable, overwhelming, and it keeps going and going- 

Zari shuts her eyes, feeling her stomach tighten and her body move in tune with Amaya’s mouth, with her hand.

“That’s it,” Amaya says, replacing her tongue with her thumb, her breath warm on Zari’s leg. “Feels good, right?”

The garter belt makes Zari acutely aware of how her breathing changes, how tightly the thing is around her stomach when she’s just trying to catch up with her own body. It makes the feeling of Amaya fucking her become nearly too much to handle, and her orgasm rolls through her from Amaya’s fingertips, like a gift.

“Holy shit,” Zari gasps, still rolling her hips. “Holy shit,  _ Amaya,  _ you’re-”

Amaya licks her lower lip, still on her knees. “Yes?”

 

Zari slides down the wall, pulling Amaya towards her, onto her lap. Amaya comes over easily, shifting to sit on Zari’s leg, taking Zari by the chin and pulling her in for a kiss.

For a moment, she lets herself get lost in it- She’s kissing her wetness of Amaya’s mouth, letting this settle into something wonderful and comfortable and still entirely needy.

And then, grinning to herself, she snaps one of Amaya’s suspenders. 

“Oh,” Amaya says, wiggling her hips.

“Oh?” Zari says.

“Well, I said I didn’t mind it,” Amaya says.

Zari runs her hand along her thigh. “You said you didn’t mind it,” Zari says. “Like how you didn’t mind all the fancy clothes, right?”

“They’re not fancy,” Amaya says.

Zari snaps a different suspender, and Amaya whimpers.

“You’re kind of a kinky dream woman,” Zari says.

“Kind of?” Amaya replies.

Zari responds with a grin, pressing her fingers against the front of Amaya’s underwear. “I can’t get your underwear off,” Zari says. “Because of your damn-”

Amaya reaches around her back and unclasps her garter belt.

“Are you kidding?” Zari says. She moves her arm. “I mean, this whole thing-”

“No,” Amaya says, grabbing Zari’s bicep. “Keep yours on.”

Zari licks the back of her teeth. “You got it,” she says, grabbing Amaya’s unhooked garter belt and pulling it away, clips tearing at the tops of her stockings.

Amaya tugs at the nylon. “Zari!”

“We’ll make you new ones,” Zari says. “But I think it’s my turn to be in charge, yeah?”

Amaya gives a small shiver. “Yeah.”

“Take off your underwear,” Zari says. “But you can keep your stockings on.”

“Good,” Amaya says, lifting her ass so she can roll her underwear down her legs. “That’s how I prefer it.”

“You can’t say things like that,” Zari says.

“Why not?” Amaya asks, kissing Zari lightly, nipping at her lower lip. “Are you interested in my stockings, Zari?”

“Maybe,” Zari says, cupping Amaya with her hand.

“Only maybe?” Amaya asks.

Zari slips her thumb inside her, and Amaya is so warm and wet that Zari feels her thoughts slip away from her, reforming into a singular focus on Amaya.

Amaya lets out a sigh of contentment, snuggling against Zari’s chest.

“Yes,” Zari says.

“Yes what?” Amaya replies.

“Yes, I’m interested in your stockings,” Zari says.

Amaya kisses Zari’s throat. “I know.”

And Zari could tease her with a reply- But it’s smarter to tease Amaya with her hand instead. And it's the scene- Amaya's discarded garter belt, her stockings still making her legs soft and shiny, the borderline obsession Zari is feeling making Amaya moan every time she thrusts her thumb inside her. She runs her index finger around Amaya's entrance, feeling the stretch of her thumb. Maybe it's how wet and messy Amaya gets, a direct contrast to her tight composure. 

"What else do you like to wear?" Zari asks.

"Oh-" Amaya whimpers, uselessly kicking her feet. "I'll show you everything."

Zari watching Amaya move in her stockings, how graceful and pretty they make her desperate motions look. It's mesmerizing, watching Amaya's thighs flex against the ripped bands of nylon.  "I'm counting on it."


End file.
